


Long-Distance

by FauxFidele, Llewcie



Category: Hannibal (TV) RPF, Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Christmas for two busy people, Hannibal Extended Universe, Loneliness, Long-Distance Friendship, M/M, Phone calls at parties, missing each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:45:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8856688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FauxFidele/pseuds/FauxFidele, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llewcie/pseuds/Llewcie
Summary: Looking at pictures of Mads in the press makes Hugh's heart hurt, a little.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There can't be Christmas without Madancy feels! Written following a late night conversation with Emily, who wrote out the whole thing but Totally Doesn't Ship It (TM).

Hugh tabbed out of the article on Rogue One premiere in LA with a sigh. His friend looked exhausted-- a face Hugh knew very well, from hundreds of late nights and early mornings on the sets of Hannibal. Those, he lingered over. And then there were others… Mads laughing with his handsome Australian castmate, drinking beer from a can as big as his hands… those he clicked right through, preferring not to study the feeling in his gut. It was good, of course, to see Mads enjoying himself. Good that he had found a castmate to while away the long, lonely hours in between takes, or the long tedious bouts of resetting. Good. Nice. Just lovely.

He glanced at the clock-- it was late. After midnight, and he had to get up in the morning and travel for filming. But if Mads was in LA… just maybe. He tugged his phone from under his thigh and tapped in a quick text, before he could change his mind. If Mads didn't answer, it was a longshot anyway.

Hugh: Loved Star Wars since you were a kid? 

He sent it with a smirk. Almost immediately, the phone pinged back.

Mads: Fuck you.

And without thinking, Hugh tapped his name on the screen. The phone rang once, and a warm familiar voice answered. "Are you in LA, Hugh?" The sounds of a Hollywood party in full swing buzzed behind him. 

Hugh swallowed his sudden dismay. "Nope. I'm at home in New York." He paused. "Admiring you in your Star Wars rags," he admitted.

Mads laughed, and then shuffled the phone. Hugh heard him excuse himself several times, and then the phone was shuffled again. It was quiet now. They both sighed in relief. "You've been looking at these pictures of me?"

"Hard to avoid," Hugh answered wryly. "You look… you look good. Tired."

The sound of the flare of a cigarette. "Yeah, the Mouse has me by the curly hairs. I can't smoke or drink or admit I never watched Star Trek in public."

Hugh choked on a laugh. "Fuck, Mads, did you make the PR person quit?"

There was a silence Hugh knew well, colored by a grin. "You would think they have never met with someone who did not worship them." A deep inhale. Exhale. Hugh curled closer to the phone. "Speaking of pictures, I saw yours at the play thing. The one where you blow a kiss at the camera?"

Hugh smiled. "The slow motion one?"

"Yeah. Your hair is growing out. I cannot see the tops of your ears." There was a huff of soft laughter over the phone, and Hugh flushed red, grateful for once to be 2000 miles away. He settled back into the couch, turned on the camera, and took an awkward selfie of his ear. He sent it with a self-depreciating snort. 

"There. Still huge. Don't worry." 

There was a long silence, and a bit of shuffling as Mads received the picture. The Dane hummed into the phone. "Wish I could…" He cleared his throat. "Wish you were… ah, fuck. I don’t know what I am trying to say."

Hugh swallowed back the tightness in his throat. "I miss you too, Mads. I miss you every time I see a picture of your stupid handsome face."

He heard the grin. "You think my face is handsome."

Hugh covered his eyes with a snort. "Shut up; you know I do."

They were quiet for the span of several heartbeats. Hugh wanted very much to say at least a dozen things, but the most persistent thought was the one that surfaced. "So, are you coming back home for Christmas through New York?" He swallowed, wincing, always too vulnerable with this man. Too open, too comfortable, too easy to say something entirely too real. Mads hummed into the phone, even as a door opened behind him somewhere in LA and someone cried, "There you are!"

Mads sighed soft. And then, "I'm done in two days time. Will you still be in New York?"

Hugh thought over his schedule. "Yeah, so can I pick you up at the airport?"

A snort. "Better not. I’ll come to you. If that's alright?" His voice was low, and intimate, and soft, and sure, they were just going to have beers and watch some sports thing or another, but together, and at Christmas time. Hugh allowed himself to imagine sinking to sleep on his friend’s warm shoulder, late at night with the snow outside. 

He cleared his throat gently. "You know where I live."


End file.
